Real Life RPG
by Retorica
Summary: It's just a role-playing game. Nothing will get on the way, right? [ LenxRin ]


~~Now, this is not a new story, definitely. And it's a reuploaded version with _no change_. Like at all. Not to push this up the archive, not to get more views... seriously. Yes, I'm being a jerk but it's part of FFn's fault that my plan a year ago got ruined. And me, being a perfectionist, have to fix it somehow.

But yeah. I first uploaded this last year and haven't added even a tiny continuation yet until now. I'm sorry.

So this is it. And moving on to things I need to point out...

• This story has nothing to do with RPGs, RPG-styled environment or something similar. The 'game' actually refers to 'play' instead.  
• The theme of this story is self-hatred, personas, and acts. _Everything is an act, and acting is different from lying_. Still, it'll focus more on 'normal' life.  
• No death (especially Len's death since I love to kill him) involved in this story.  
• It's not as worse as what you would think, maybe.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.

* * *

**Prologue**

**"Start"**

* * *

Spring had ended for a long time, bright-colored flowers had now wilted and replaced by the domination of red and white. Summer had passed not that long, thick and dark cloud had hung on the sky since that time, where the cloud was at the fluffiest white.

Slowly a red-brown leaf fell, finally losing its grip on the tree. Landing softly on the ground where the grass had changed color, almost wilting completely. Getting stepped by thousands of feet before being raked away. That leaf wasn't alone, though. Millions of them were facing the same fate, ending up the same way.

She slowly moved her feet backwards, giving a push to the swing she was sitting on. The rusted part of the metal that connected the swing to the stand was apparently getting old—the small movement of the swing had made a shrill-like noise already. She enjoyed it, though. Along with the soft breeze that blew her long hair softly, the air that was getting colder as winter is nearing, and the sound of the leaves she stepped on.

With a small smile creeping up to her lips, she turned her head to her companion who was sitting on her right, the swing he was sitting on didn't make any noise—he didn't swing it. "Something crossed my mind just now," she said.

The falling leaves, the wind that made a sound when it reached his ears, the thing he had been looking and listening for the whole time—the time he spent with the girl beside him, sitting in silence with her—was soon leaving his mind as the girl's voice entered his ears, to his head, into his mind. "What is it?" he said quietly, he didn't really want to talk as it will break the sounds of nature that he had listened to.

She stepped on the ground harder to stop the movement of her swing. She wanted him to hear it, it had to be said without any interruption. "I hate myself, you hate yourself. We both hate ourselves," the words left, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. She gulped down the saliva inside, ignoring the fact that the saliva would be produced again, trying to clear the bad feeling.

He… knew it. He knew it already, he had told her and she had told him, _they hate themselves_. He didn't really want to be reminded with that fact, but that girl had said it. Feeling slightly annoyed, he replied the girl—it's not like he would actually tell her that the thing she had said did not please his ears, or him, at all. "What about that?"

"Of course… we can't stay this way forever. The feeling of wanting to kill myself won't go anywhere. I can't keep on living with that feeling, I'm not a masochistic person. And living with someone you hate will be really _gross_," she said as she smiled again. Really, she wasn't masochistic, and yes, she felt grossed with the fact she lived as herself who she hated, yet those word she had just said pleased her very much. The reason? Too much; she had that feeling, _too much_. Overflowing. Attacking back to her.

The boy sighed, the problem they were having was just the same. He didn't really get it why he could survive with that feeling inside of him. Maybe he still had the heart to keep on living, to put his own body in one perfect piece instead of slicing it. But why a person like him could have the heart to do that? That person who he look down, that low person, still having the intention to live when he know that he was low and simply disgusting—someone who didn't deserve to live…? A really disgusting person, indeed.

"I can take my cutter out if you want me to _slice your life_ to bits. Or knife, I know you brought it with you… to offend yourself, you said. Just let it do the opposite," he said with the same calm voice, contrary to the words he said.

"It _is_ to offend myself, so I would be safe from self-hating like this," she said, almost laughed at her own comment. Somehow it was laughable, killing _herself_ to offend _herself_ from hating_herself_? It really was laughable. Restraining herself from laughing out loud at her comment, she continued to speak. She hadn't gotten to the main point, that's why. "But, I'm not committing suicide or asking you to kill me, obviously. I don't say this without any purpose, because this brilliant idea might make our live better, or better, changing it completely."

He was uninterested. He wasn't interested with the 'idea' of this girl from the beginning. What, one person's idea could actually change everything, like, _everything_? That sounded too impossible for him. His eyes went down to the dirt again, watching its color. "What, making a better mask to cover the dirty faces of us? Masks… too much wearing them can make you forget that you're wearing one, or maybe you end up being the mask itself, it's not a mask anymore."

"It's not about mask, why are you so old-fashioned? Wearing mask is a way too mainstream," she said, sounding as if she was demanding him to listen to her idea first before commenting any further. "Just, _listen_. We just have to 'make someone' in our head; someone who is loved by everyone, including ourselves. How they would react to things, how they express their feeling, how they communicate with the others, and things like that, we have to think about it really well."

The swing that hadn't been pushed from the beginning was now being swung, lightly. That light push had already made a noise coming up from above. He didn't mean that, he didn't mean to give the swing a push at all, even the littlest one. The unexpected noise just made him cringe. "I see no difference between that and the mask…"

"It _is_ different, let me finish it first!" she said as she kicked one leaf that just happened to land in front of her foot just a few seconds earlier. It flew for a really short time before falling down again. "If mask are created to cover while maintaining the 'existence' of ourselves—when wearing masks, people will recognize, for example, me, as me. The 'me' I know and the 'me' they see are two different faces, but still the same person. My idea is, however, to make someone else. People will recognize me as 'me', but as that someone else instead, and that 'me' isn't actually me but that person. We just have to create a character and act like that character we make. When you're acting, you're not that person, you are you who's playing the role of that person, and that person is that person him or herself, that person with the characteristic you made for that person. You and that person isn't the same."

"Like doing some role-play as that character?"

"Role-play," she repeated his words, trying the words using her tongue and feeling whether that word described her idea or not. It did, and she smiled, "Maybe that's how you put it, great job on finding the way to say it."

He lifted his head up to take a look of her face. Just glancing, not turning his head towards her. Through that transparent silicone lenses he could see her face. Smiling, satisfied. Maybe because she had finally be able to say what she wanted to say, maybe because he got what she meant, maybe because she had found the way to call it (actually he was the one who came up with that), maybe because she knew her plan would work well, maybe because she knew that she didn't need to live with the 'her' she really hated for the rest of her life. He didn't know what the reason exactly was.

Looking at her face was a different matter, though. He could ignore whatever expression she made on her own face, but as long as it was her face, it made him… momentarily forgot about his problems, his hatred, everything that bothered him.

It wasn't the right time to think about such an important thing—as least that was what he thought as he went back, thinking about the 'idea' she said before. Right on cue, as if she was able to read his mind, she asked, "Then what do you think about that? Do you want to do it with me or not?"

He still didn't know what was the difference between that role-playing idea and mask, though he wasn't going to say it out—he didn't want to be bombarded by her explanations and protests. But he knew, anything that she had planned had to be considered to be taken seriously. She was a smart girl; he had heard it from people around him, but in fact he could see it. It wasn't hard for him to tell which person is 'smart enough' and which one isn't.

Maybe he should get along with her. Maybe, his intuition told him so. If she asked him to get along with her, she must have something in her mind that had something to do with him as well. It could be positive, it could be negative, he didn't know.

He was just going to ask that, then.

"Have you started to hate me?" he asked. "Why are you trying to drag me along with this? You should worry about your own problem, not mine."

She turned towards him. Strands of teal hair falling to a side as she tilted her head, almost covering her whole face. She looked straight into his clear blue eyes, reading through it. A pair of beautifully colored eyes… Oh no, she wasn't supposed to be looking at that part. That was a mistake that she wanted to laugh at, again.

"I never hate you," she said with a bright, cheerful voice. "That's it, I want you to stop hating yourself."

He narrowed his eyes, looking back into a pair of turquoise eyes. "Why don't _you_ stop hating yourself, then?"

She smiled even wider. "You could as yourself about that, but you can make me," she said before jumping off the swing and landed on the dried leaves. Crunching noises came out from under her feet afterwards. She twirled on those dead leaves and faced him once more. "Then, let's meet up again in this place… I mean, let's make our characters meet up in this place tomorrow. They still don't know each other, that's why we need to introduce them to each other, okay?"

A step backward, stepping on the dead leaves. One step forward, still stepping on the same object. More steps away until she was gone from his eyesight. She had gone, he was alone. That happened a bit too quick for him, he hadn't even agreed with her idea. But she had gone, then nothing else he could do. He stood up while letting out a long sigh, looking back to the swing until it stopped completely—he accidentally pushed it while standing up—and walked away.

'Make a character, act like that character…'

"Role-playing." he said under his breath, smiling after that.

* * *

He didn't understand what had gotten into him, he just… kind of agreeing her offer to play a little something with someone he just met recently. About two weeks earlier, in front of her school gates. She was the one who greeted him and talked to him, when he was there just looking for his house key that apparently had fallen from his bag on his way to his own school. He didn't find his key at the end, but that's another story.

Just because of that and a bit of chit-chat, it ended up like that. Now he had to play along with her game. Role-playing. Make a character, act like that character. But _what_ character? She didn't really specify the character.

Someone, so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life with someone he hates, in this case, himself. So he had to make someone he's going to like. What is that, it sounded really strange to him. He's going to act like someone he likes._He_'s going to act like someone he likes.

'You got to be kidding me,' he thought as he smashed himself to the bed. Pretty harsh, but he didn't care about the slight pain he felt. There was no way he could act like someone he like, it was impossible.

He rolled to stare at his ceiling. But maybe he only need to make the opposite of him: someone everybody likes, a nice person who talks to people in such way that makes them happy hearing him, a sociable person, a person with high optimism, simply a person he would never be.

The good this was he didn't have to be that kind of person, he only had to act as someone else like one. As someone else, not him. The person is not going to be him, it's someone else. And of course, that person would not look like him. They could have the same basic appearance—blonde hair that reached the shoulder, dark blue eyes, a 'decent' height—but different person must have different way to show it. For example, the hair. His hair was starting to get too long and get into his way—just tie it up in a ponytail. That person has many things to do, he shouldn't spend his time in front of the mirror to tidy his hair in such way (but actually he didn't really 'tidy' his hair, either) _and_ to put his contacts in, just simply wear glasses.

That image and that appearance wasn't 'him'. Of course he wasn't crazy enough to tie up his hair in daily basis—he knew it was the twenty-first century, and he isn't a girl. And glasses, wearing glasses was inconvenience for him—he had never touched that thing since he bought a pair contacts, why bother having something hanging on the nose when contacts are already invented and can be easily bought? But then, this person had a different way of thinking, different than him, he isn't going to wear that 'as him' so it should be okay.

Should be okay, doesn't it.

He had been looking straight into the mirror for a minute on the next day. A minute without breaking eye contact with _him_, that person who stared back as well for the whole minute. His hair was messy—'fresh from the bed'—and he tied that messy hair into a high ponytail. A pair of glasses rested on his nose, replacing the usual transparent soft lenses. And that way, he still recognized him as himself, but as if he was trying to look different than usual.

He still couldn't go out with that way. But he had to—he had to meet her as well, he wasn't going to run away from her play. After all, it was 'to keep on living'. He wouldn't know what he would do if things stayed that way, maybe he would be able to stay alive, maybe he would die right on that night… committing suicide. He didn't want to die, _he doesn't want to die_. Besides, not everything started bad, or in this case, strange, ends up being bad as well. He had to give it a try.

After all, everything she had planned wasn't leading to nowhere, he knew that somehow this plan will work in a way, he trusted her. He always trusted her, that's why he will do it. After giving his 'costume' another glance, he walked away from the mirror and headed straight to the door. To the outside. Without saying anything, he closed the door and locked it. Thankfully there was no one in the hallway, it was empty as always, though sometimes he saw one or two, some people there. No one would notice him going out with that style.

He made a quick walk to the elevator and waited for it patiently, before the doors opened and let him in. As always, he was alone in the elevator—actually he barely saw anyone in that apartment, not that he cared. Shortly after that the elevator made a 'ding' noise and the door opened automatically. He stepped out, walking past the smiling receptionist and out from the building to be greeted by the autumn wind that slapped his face pretty hard. It made his hair even messier than before.

After walking for a while—watching the sky, looking at the passerby, listening to the rhythmical tap of his shoes—he could tell that he was getting closer to the park, the meet-up place. Once again he reassured himself that it was okay to have a different appearance… wearing a costume. But before he could even think about it any further, he heard someone was singing faintly. That voice, he thought that faint singing was luring him to the source of the voice. He made his walking pace faster, he started to ignore the fact that he needed to meet someone in the park, he _had to_ find the source.

At first he didn't know that the voice came from the park, but then he saw _her_ swinging happily on the park swing. Her teal hair, the hair she usually let down, was now being tied into a twin-tail that flew along as she swung. He stopped there, just standing while looking at her, hearing that voice…

It didn't last forever. Oh, he wished it would last forever but it was of course, impossible. She stopped singing after a while, and then it was her turn to examine him without saying anything.

He actually agreed to 'play along' with her until this far, she was fascinated by this fact. But then, she didn't say anything. No words were uttered from her mouth, she just smiled. Not the usual twisted smile she usually gave to herself, she had to give a nice and sweet smile to go along with her costume.

"You have a nice voice," he commented without thinking, it just came out from his mouth. But he thought that outcome was good, because he had to 'act' as the character he was playing. He didn't really think of the exact personality, but the real him would have stayed silent. Those words alone were already good.

"Thanks," she said. He could hear her voice was more airy compared to her usual voice. She really was doing her best in this role-playing thing. That alone had already given a different impression.

He walked closer to her and joined her on the swing. Then he started to push it forward, asking, "Do you sing often? That really sounds like a professional singing."

"Well, I like to sing, but I can't sing that often," she explained. "So… does it really sound like a professional? Never thought that day where I get that kind of compliment is finally here, thank you again!"

It sounded good. Her voice sounded good—not good in literal meaning, he had heard her voice many times before but he never felt that way. The way she used it was good, he even fell in love with that at the first time he heard it. "I love your voice," he said straightforwardly to her as he pushed the swing again while still having her voice replayed over and over again in his head. He wanted to hear it again, he didn't want to stop hearing her voice.

"You don't need to say it again," she said even more quietly while looking down to the dirt. It was a bit embarrassing to be complimented again and again. And other than that, those leaves from the day before were still there, she noticed.

While she was doing that, he kept on thinking, and thinking, and thinking. He didn't even understand what was actually running inside of his head, as a prove that he really, really want to hear her voice again and again like craving for it to death, then trying to find a way to be able to continue hearing her voice, got distracted by having her voice repeated inside of his head, and all went on over and over again like an endless loop. Why? Don't even ask him why, he was completely clueless about it. As if her voice had hypnotized him and made him unable to think properly, even about that basic question word, 'why'.

Why? _Why_?

"Your name," he blurted out without being conscious about that fact. But he had said it, he had to continue it, "What is your name?"

She laughed at him. Really, she did laugh at him. Maybe she could notice his nervousness in his voice, he felt it was too obvious that she could even notice it. "My name?" she asked back while still having a slight laughing-like voice. Then she continued as she looked at him with a sincere smile on her face, "It's—"


End file.
